


I Dewey

by posingasme



Series: Hush [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: @posingasme, Adorkable, Big Brother Dean, Gen, M/M, Shy Castiel, Shy Sam Winchester, nerd love, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 14:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: Sam enlists his brother's help to celebrate his one year anniversary with Castiel.(Continuation of HUSH.)





	I Dewey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CeliaEquus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeliaEquus/gifts).



The big brother was sulking. “This is the single nerdiest thing I have ever had to do in my entire life,” he complained. “This is worse than that time you got into that LARP game with Charlie.”

Sam looked up from his notes. “Dude, that was you.”

While Dean seemed to be considering his faulty memory, Sam continued his work. At last, he shrugged. “Whatever. This is still way nerdier than that.”

“You gave the _Braveheart_ speech before leading a battle against fake orcs. Then you slipped in mud and nearly got trampled while charging.”

“I still think that was you.”

“Definitely not.” Sam scribbled on another piece of blue stationery. “Okay. Last one. Look, all you have to do is hand him the first one. The rest, he’ll do himself. If you can manage handing him a slip of paper, and not being an asshole, you'll have exceeded my expectations, and you're free to go.”

“So I don't have to actually be a part of the whole dorky thing.”

Finally, Sam straightened from his position over the counter. “I knew I should have asked Ben.”

Dean shook his head. “Nope. Don't get your weird nerd cooties all over my kid. Bad enough he's got Dromse for World History this year, and I gotta hear all about the damn Russian Revolution all the damn time.”

“It's Drosme, and you know it.”

“Whatever.”

“Give it to him at four. Can you do that?”

He scowled at him. “I'm a gym teacher, not a moron.”

“You told me on your first day that the whistle makes you their god.”

“It does. What's this say, anyway?”

Sam smiled down at the paper. “It's a numerical clue.”

“A library code.”

“The library code. I mean, not the only one. There are other shelving systems. Bookstores use-”

Dean made a snoring noise.

Sam frowned. “Yeah. The Dewey Decimal system. Yes, it's nerdy. It's also romantic, jackass. Maybe you and Lisa just grunt at one another like Neanderthals, but Cas and I read books.” Sam stopped for a moment to wonder if Neanderthals were properly used as an insult. Now that he thought of it, hadn't he read somewhere that they were actually fairly-

“Whatever. I'll give your dorky love note to your boyfriend after school. Anything else?”

He snapped back to attention. “No. That's it. That's good. Thank you.”

Green eyes softened with a smile. “This ain't just an anniversary thing, is it?”

Butterflies began skittering around in his stomach. “Not exactly.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah. Okay. I guess it's kind of cute.”

That was twenty hours ago. Now, Sam's butterflies had become a plague of locusts. He had slept fitfully, then found it entirely impossible to communicate with anyone all day. His job as an archivist for the university required very little interaction, but he avoided it completely today. He wanted to be able to see Castiel's surprised face as he received the note from his brother. Of course, not being there while it was delivered was the whole point. But still, he was sorry to miss it. He liked Castiel's face.

***

“Dromse,” Coach Winchester bellowed before he had even reached the classroom door.

Castiel dropped his pen with a startled cringe. “What? Yes, what?”

The large man rounded the corner and walked in as though it were his own office. “What's up, professor?”

There was no one on the planet who could intimidate Castiel Drosme. Fluster, yes. He was in a constant state of fluster. But not intimidate. No one could do that. Except for Dean Winchester. And they both knew it. “Dean. How can I-Do you need-Can I help you?” Castiel raced through his mental files, which were at least as disorganized as his actual physical ones, and tried to remember if Ben had any low scores on any projects or tests which might have brought the coach to his door. He was never going to forgive the guidance department for placing Coach Winchester's step-son in his class, no matter how much he liked the kid himself. Their insistence that Dean had requested it just made it all the more confusing. Castiel could only assume Ben was meant to report back on all the idiotic things his teacher did to fuel Dean's apparent disapproval of his relationship with Ben’s uncle.

“Nah,” the man said airily. “I just have a message for you. From Sam.”

Relief hit first, but soft warmth followed quickly. “Why didn't he text me? I like texting. Emoticons.”

Dean had a way of looking at him like he was constantly trying to figure out what his brother saw in him. For that matter, some days Castiel looked in the mirror in the same way. “I don't know, man. You live together. I don't know why he didn't just...Here. He says it has to do with your Friday library date tonight.”

Castiel's heart fell. “Oh.” He had been looking forward to their long-standing date night all week. Sam was happy at his new job, but often exhausted in the evenings. Castiel left earlier in the morning, and Sam returned later, and they often simply shared quiet space together before falling asleep. He wouldn't trade their lifestyle for anything, but that was partly because he always knew Friday would come and they could have their visit to the library followed by their coffee or dinner.

“You going to read it?”

He smiled tightly, and tried not to sound disappointed, while he fumbled the blue envelope. “Yeah. It's just him saying he's too tired after the work week. And that's fine. He's doing so well that…” Castiel stopped and stared at the note, which didn't say anything of the sort.

“Night, man,” Dean tossed over his shoulder on his way out. “And good luck.”

It took Castiel too long to process the voice. “Yes, you too!” he called out into an empty hall.

Then he sat down and reread the numbers, written in Sam's familiar calligraphic, hieroglyphic gibberish.

“Melvil’s 523.46”

That was the entire note.

Castiel frowned. “What?” he muttered aloud. His mind began whirring through every association it could make with the sparse information. It wasn't an address, or any sort of contact number. Melvil wasn't any restaurant or street he knew.

He stared out over his desk as he concentrated. He was just about to pull out his phone to text Sam, when his gaze fell upon the book he and Sam were currently reading together. It was Barbara Holland’s _Gentlemen’s Blood: A History of Dueling from Swords at Dawn to Pistols at Dusk_ , and there on the spine was _394.809 Holland._

“Melvil Dewey,” he whispered. “It's a book. Or...or it's the location of a book. In our library. That's odd.”

But he wasted no time in throwing on his beige coat, and hurrying out of the school toward his car. A strange nervous giddiness rose in him, and he began to laugh.

“It's our anniversary, isn't it, Sam?” He was entirely out of breath as he jumped into his car, the one his students irreverently called the Pimpmobile. “Either that or you're finally going to become a psycho killer like those awful books you make me read.” It was somehow fitting that Castiel was rushing off to be murdered by the Dewey Decimal Killer, after just having finished that story about the Zodiac guy. And as far as psycho killers went, Sam was a very pleasant one. “Just kiss me, and I'll die happy,” he sighed to himself. He spent the short drive alternating between thinking of how he would like to spend his last date with Sam before he died, and blaming Sam for the fact that serial killers were things he knew so much about.

But as soon as his dark shoes hit the pavement again, his brain leapt on the numbers. Melvil was Dewey; he was certain. What were the 500s? Science? Or math. It was math. Wait. Mathematics was under the sciences, wasn't it? As much as he loved hearing Sam talk about absolutely anything, and never took his voice for granted, ever, he didn't pretend to absorb all the information Sam's encyclopedic brain churned out when he finally spoke. Sam had once given him a miniature lecture about the Dewey Decimal versus Library of Congress classification systems, and he had spent most of it simply enjoying the fact that Sam was talking at all and making eye contact at the same time.

Castiel flew to the sciences, and was pleased to find that they were, in fact, numbered in the 500s. The 520s seemed to be astronomy. He looked around him to see if Sam were hovering nearby, possibly laughing at his silly excitement at following a clue like a child detective. But his lover was nowhere to be found, so he continued looking. The 523s were books about planets, and named comets, and at last, his long fingers found 523.46, a book about Saturn. He held it up triumphantly.

Now what? An odd sense of confusion hit him. He felt like a secret door should have slid open as he pulled the book from the shelf. As it was, if the note hadn't been in Sam's distinctive handwriting, he might have considered that Coach Winchester was pranking him.

Then his excitement picked up again as he opened the book, with a beautiful cover featuring Saturn’s rings, and out fell a new note. Castiel grinned and dropped to sit on his heels to retrieve his prize.

“You are my world,” Sam's message stated. “You are my everything.” On the back, he found a new clue. “918.54404645.”

Castiel chewed his lip. “History,” he said with delight. He carefully slipped the note into his coat pocket, and raced to his favorite section of the library, where the history and geography books waited. It turned out that 918 referred to the geography of South America, and he found a slim volume by a young scientist studying the Amazon, called _The Boiling River_. It looked like just the sort of book Sam would devour in one of his all-night reading marathons, then blink in surprise when he realized dawn had come without his noticing. The thought made Castiel smile. He was so in love with that man.

Sure enough, there was another note. “Loving you makes my blood run hot every time I'm near you.” This note sent him to the literature section, to find 828.91408 among the British writers. He snickered as he saw it. He opened up _The Salmon of Doubt_ , by Douglas Adams, and claimed his guerdon. “You'll never know how much courage it took to overcome my doubt and speak to you, nor how glad I am that I finally did.”

He stepped quickly toward the military sciences shelf, to help himself to 355.5/47, as suggested by his note. It was one that he had suggested to Sam that they look into next time it was Castiel's turn to choose, _The Book of the Five Rings._

“I will fight by your side, even if you decide to invade Russia in the winter or get involved in a land war in Asia.” There was an author’s name on the back of the card, and not the one Castiel would actually find the book under: S. Morgenstern.

Well, that was a shared favorite of theirs, and he raced off to find a copy of _The Princess Bride_ , and was rewarded with this message: “Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it a while. I would always come back for you.”

This time there was a quotation acting as the clue. Castiel's competitive nature was fueling him, even as he was cherishing each of his notes and their messages. He muttered the phrase to himself over and over as he wandered the literature section.

“The maddest thing a man can do in this life…The maddest thing…Maddest…”

Why did that phrase seem so familiar?

At last, he laughed out loud. “The maddest thing a man can do in this life is to let himself die!”

He whirled through the shelves, until he pounced on a copy of _Don Quixote_ , which Sam had added to their list nearly six months back. And now, he had his hands on his note, and he read it aloud in his excitement. “Sholem Asch said that he requires books as he requires air, and so do I. Yours is the story I will never tire of reading, and I wait with bated breath for every new line.” He beamed happily, and flipped the note to find his next clue.

That was when his own breath caught in his throat.

“Castiel, will you marry me?”

He hadn't realized he was still reading aloud until he heard a sigh behind him. He startled, and dropped the books he had collected. They cascaded to the floor, and he gave a yelp and dove after them. “Sam!” he cried out. “You're here! I just need to…Give me just a…”

Sam's smile radiated warmth from above. He crouched down to put his hand on Castiel's, only to find him shaking. “Cas?” he whispered.

Blue eyes blinked up at him. His glasses were askew, and he had books plummeting to the floor, and beautiful notes fluttering down on his lap, but the way Sam looked at him was like he was the only man in the universe.

“Cas, please.”

It was probably all the man would be able to say right then, and not above a whisper, but it was enough to kickstart Castiel's brain. “Yes! Sam, yes. Let's get married! If you really-I mean, of course that's what you-I never thought you might be the one who one day...I'm sure-Yes. I mean, yes, I'll marry you.”

There was a smattering of applause around them, and Castiel realized that he had apparently had a tiny audience of other library patrons during his scavenger hunt. He flushed bright red. It occurred to him that this Friday evening library crowd had likely been witness to much of the courtship between the two men over the last year. Castiel had only ever had eyes for Sam, but it made sense that those very few people who were there on a Friday were regulars.

Sam ducked his head and hid beneath his hair while others called their best wishes. These people seemed to know better than to approach, but they were happy for them, and something about that made Castiel proud. He waited to kiss Sam until after the last of them had dispersed with little chitters of pleasure among them.

When they were alone, he captured Sam's lips with his own. “I love you so much.”

The gentle giant sighed contentedly. Then he reached out to tap the first book’s cover.

Castiel glanced down. “Saturn,” he said.

His lover nodded. He pointed at the lovely rings around the planet. Then he tapped on _The Book of the Five Rings._

The teacher gave him a quiet laugh. “Rings? But no Tolkien?”

Sam snickered. “Too easy,” he breathed. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. Inside were two rings, white gold, designed like two curled feathers. He held them out to Castiel.

“Quills?” Castiel guessed.

He nodded, and seemed pleased.

“Sam, they're perfect. They're…” He stopped as his inspection of one revealed an inscription inside. “... _and silent ache for thee_ ,” he sighed. Tears filled his eyes. It was from the poem by Byron that Sam had recited after they had made love for the first time, about having loved Castiel so desperately without the ability to tell him. These words were the perfect description of the way each man had yearned to know and love the other from afar. “These rings are…” He felt his voice catch, and cleared his throat. “They're perfectly us.”

The archivist smiled softly, nodded, and touched their lips together again.

It was all so perfectly them.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are cookies for writers. 
> 
> ~Posing


End file.
